Under the skin
by SSeselene
Summary: A young Severus Snape’s brutal initiation into the service of the Dark Lord


(oneshoot)

I hope u like it

¤Under the skin¤

"You should consider yourself honored," Voldemort said as the young man hesitantly entered the chamber. "I don't meet with every initiate, much less give them the Dark Mark myself. But you Mr. Snape _Severus_," he continued, looking up for the first time from the colored inks he was carefully pouring. "You impressed all the right people, the ones I actually listen to. You're apparently quite a brilliant young man." 

Voldemort rose to his feet, easily towering over the slight figure of the initiate. He drew very near taking Snape's chin in his hand, turning his face upward for scrutiny. Young, he was ridiculously young but not unmarked. Already the faintest lines of bitterness were etched on either side of his mouth. Voldemort did not find the young man attractive.

Bellatrix had clearly attempted to tidy him up, make him more acceptable but the boy's whole being seemed to undermine her best efforts. His hair was stylishly cut but still seemed greasy and was already out of place, falling in his eyes. His posture was abominable. He was gaunt and unhealthily pale but there was no air of the delicate about him. His black eyes were too steely, too unwavering under their heavy lids. "Quite brilliant," Voldemort repeated. "But I had hoped you'd be handsome as well." 

"I apologize for disappointing you." Snape said harshly, jerking away from him.

"That's not a very reverent tone to take with the man whose service you're about to enter," Voldemort laughed. "You need to learn to hide your disdain Severus- especially for people more powerful than you."

"I've been kicked in the teeth my whole life," Snape muttered. "Pretending to enjoy it never made it any better or any less so I've stopped pretending."

"Which is precisely why I wanted to meet with you," Voldemort said. "But we'll talk about that while I give you the mark." He gestured to the table where the inks were arrayed and the needles lying ready. "Please, have a seat." 

The young man was surprised. "You're going to be using a needle, like a Muggle? I assumed you'd use a spell."

"That is the usual way but for you I believe more primitive methods are appropriate. I want you to feel this mark being put into your skin and know exactly who put it there. Take off your things." Snape was wearing a dark suit. He removed the jacket and rolled up his sleeve, offering Voldemort his forearm. "I said take off your things, your shirt as well."

"I don't like people to see my body."

"You _are_ difficult, aren't you? All right have it your way, for now." Voldemort deftly sketched the snake and the skull on the translucent skin of Snape's forearm then began etching it out with the needles. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Snape answered though his face betrayed no pain. His dark eyes remained fixed on Voldemort… piercing, steady, and almost contemptuous. A trickle of blood ran down his arm onto the tabletop.

"Now Severus, dear little Severus," Voldemort said speaking softly, intently as he worked on the tattoo, "You've proven your talent and you show tremendous promise. However promises rarely turn out the way we'd like. You might be an extraordinary Death Eater, among the finest. You also might be very dangerous to me and my cause."

"You can't doubt my loyalty," Snape said, an edge of anger in his voice. "I let Malfoy and Crouch into my mind, let them paw over my memories. I don't have any secrets."

"I don't doubt your loyalty at this moment. However I distrust your personality. Crouch and Malfoy found no indication of treachery but a great deal of what they did find was… troubling. Tell me, Severus, how old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"You seem very bitter for someone so young. Youth is by nature idealistic. Many of your peers are among the ranks of the Death Eaters and without exception they believe they are changing the world for the better. They believe in me, in the righteousness of my cause. You don't."

"The world is a dark place," Snape replied. "It deserves a Dark Lord."

"By dark you mean cruel and evil. That is how you see the world?"

"Yes," Snape answered.

Voldemort smiled, leaning close. "That is how you see me?"

"Yes," Snape said again and Voldemort laughed.

"You are a conceited little git, aren't you? Bellatrix Lestrange warned me that I would not find you likable and she was quite right."

"You asked me a question, I answered it."

"And I'll ask you another. Exactly why have you pledged yourself to the service of someone you believe to be dark, cruel and evil?"

"Because I'm all those things myself," Snape admitted and for the first time his cold steadiness wavered. "I'm not a good person, I never have been. I can't see anything but the negative. I'm angry, I hate people. I want to hurt them."

"And who do you want to hurt?" Voldemort asked as he inked the serpent's fangs onto Snape's pale pale skin.

"My mother and father had no right to be parents," Snape said looking away.

"But they're dead now. Who else?"

"When I was at school, at Hogwarts there were certain people who made my life miserable. I was…." He hesitated, drew a sharp breath, then continued. "I was mistreated. I've resented it since. I've resented it very deeply."

"Yes, Bellatrix told me a bit about this mistreatment. And of course what her cousin Sirius did to you. Though I don't see how you can complain about that," Voldemort added cruelly. "I've seen Sirius Black. He's a nice looking boy, certainly much prettier than you. You ought to have been grateful."

"I won't talk about that." Snape said abruptly.

"So sensitive. 'I won't talk about it'," Voldemort mimicked. "'I don't like people to see my body.' I suppose you don't like to be touched either."

"Not especially, no."

"Well," he ran his fingertips over the skull and snake tattooed on Snape's forearm, "I'm finished with this. I have set my mark upon you, as they say, but I wonder is it enough to bind you. You're a willful young man. I think I will be required to go still further with you."

"Further than needles and inkpots and blood?" Snape asked snidely.

"Much further."

"Something else I should be honored by?"

"Quite." Voldemort drew his wand from the dark swirl of his robes. Extending it towards Snape, who had half risen, he uttered a single word. "Crucio." A bolt of sickly green energy enveloped Snape and he collapsed, screaming in pain.

Voldemort rose and placidly observed the younger man writhing on the floor for some minutes before he finally gestured with his wand, putting a stop to the curse. Snape managed to rise to his knees and was violently sick, vomiting until dry heaves were wracking his body. Finally he was still, completely drained, trembling.

"What are you doing?" He asked. Voldemort didn't answer; he only lifted his wand again and repeated the forbidden "Crucio."

The second time Voldemort released him Snape was barely conscious. He lay on the ground deathly pale, strands of dark hair plastered to his forehead and breathing shallowly.

"Open your eyes." Voldemort ordered. Snape did, looking up at the wizard looming above him. "Good, you need to be aware of this. You need to know what's happening to you." With that Voldemort caught him by the hair and dragged him to his feet.

"You're a smart boy, Severus. You live in your head," Voldemort said, pushing Snape face down onto the tabletop. "But when it comes down to it your heart and soul, not your intellect, will determine where your loyalties lie. I am simply impressing upon you that heart and soul you belong to me. As with the application of your mark, I think a simple and brutal approach will make the greatest impression."

He ran his hand over Snape's buttocks lingeringly. Weak as he was, Snape tried to pull away from his touch. Voldemort slammed him back down.

"If you make me use the Cruciatus curse again you might not survive," he warned. Grinding his hips against Snape's backside he reached around and unfastened the younger man's trousers, yanking them down as he slowly drew his tongue along the back of Snape's neck.

"Please don't do this. Please, don't," Snape pleaded. Voldemort's hand was between his thighs now, pushing his legs apart. "Please don't please don't please don't," Snape continued to whimper, a spell or a charm without effect.

"Stop whining," Voldemort ordered. "It's not as if this hasn't happened to you before." In a single, merciless push he drove himself inside. Snape cried out in pain, tried to struggle but the applications of the Cruciatus curse had taken too much out of him and finally he could only lie against the tabletop limp with exhaustion as Voldemort thrust viciously into him.

Voldemort took his time but at last convulsed in orgasm and released Snape who slid to the floor only barely conscious.

"You see, Severus," the Dark Lord said, "everything you are, your considerable talents, your wounded pride, your boundless anger, your ripe black bitterness, even your sorry body all belong to me to do with as I please. Now pull yourself together and get out." Stepping over Snape, he strode from the room.

In another chamber, Bellatrix was waiting for Voldemort in her blood red and violet gown. As he entered she rose and poured him a glass of wine.

"Your smarmy little recruit is a Death Eater now," Voldemort told her. "I gave him the mark, and everything else we discussed."

"Far be it for me to question your actions Lord Voldemort," she said, "but are you sure you've played this right? I've told you about what happened with Severus and my cousin, and how it remains a wound with him. It's made him vulnerable but there's also strength in his anger. He hated Sirius enough to become one of us. He might hate you as much."

"That is a risk," Voldemort agreed. "When you put yourself under the skin, when you break a man that way, there is always a risk. I may own him now or I may have turned him against me. Only time will tell."


End file.
